


Feel It in the Morning

by Whuffie



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age Origins
Genre: Biting, F/M, Love Bites, NSFW, Rough Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 05:32:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9164296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whuffie/pseuds/Whuffie
Summary: This is so not safe for work or minors that if you’re underage your eyeballs will smoke and burn out of your skull.  Just sayin’. This is smut with very little plot. It was written on request from a Tumblr friend of mine. The prompt was "Love Bite" and Duncan from Dragon Age. Don’t look if you don’t like Grey Warden Duncan doing rough, sexy things with a consenting woman because she’s turned on by it. There's also not much to read here except erotica.Pairing: Duncan/Random Female OCSetting: 8 years before the Blight.  General canon friendly situation from the long stretch of time between the events of The Calling and Dragon Age: OriginsWarnings: Hair pulling, biting, slightly rough sex.  Not true BDSM but there is light kink.Rating: Very explicit





	

Duncan shook snow from his shoulders as he passed beneath a wooden sign. Ice dripped from it in long spikes, making the faded paint almost unreadable, but it promised a resting place. Shivering, he pulled off his gloves and blew into his hands as he migrated into the relative warmth of the Howling Goblet tavern. Ferelden was always too cold for his tastes, and he envied people like Maric who seemed immune to the weather.

He’d traveled with the King of Ferelden once, but that had been over a decade ago, right after the Joining. It was a dark time in spite of the King’s good cheer, and the burdens dropped on his shoulders in those tender years had been a crucible. They turned an irresponsible young scamp into the leader of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden. He had no choice but to rebuild the decimated Order, and no one to left to mentor him.

By the time he thought to seek out Nicholas, the Warden Commander of Orlais who was on the verge of his Calling, Duncan had been on his own for years. The Architect had slipped away from Duncan’s original Warden Chapter, and they all died on the Deep Roads excursion. All except one, and she was back in the Circle, no longer a Warden. How could she leave knowing the same things he did? If the changing reverberations of the Song buzzing in the back of his mind weren’t enough to keep him up at night, that would have been. She must not have felt it any more, somehow cleansed of the Taint.

It wasn't as easy for him. He knew it was only a matter of time before either the Architect resurfaced or a true Blight began. Recruitment into the Wardens was slow, in spite of Maric’s approval of letting the Order back into the country. Darkspawn were practically a myth and Grey Wardens nothing but fireside tales of times gone and forgotten. They were griffon riders who exploded into the sky to battle archdemons, but the griffons were gone. So, most people supposed, were useful Wardens. The dwarves knew better, and they remained allies. He also had the ear of the Cousland family. A Blight would devastate the country and his handful of recruits wouldn’t be enough to withhold the tide. Archdemons might be brought down by the hand of a Grey Warden, but it took armies mobilized to fight the throngs the corrupted old gods commanded.

Maker help them all. It was too much for one man, and he tried to thaw out his fingers by holding them in front of the fire. He was tired, hungry, ranging out for Conscriptions hadn’t yielded anyone in weeks and it was exactly thirty years since he was born. After rubbing a hand over his beard to get the moisture out of it, he reached back to unbind his hair. Shaking the dampness out of it, he was about to tie it again when a woman told him, “it’s nicer down.”

She saluted him from her table with her drink and placed a copper with the barman for another bowl of stew and tankard of ale. Inviting herself over with them as an offering, Duncan didn’t refuse the courtesy. They were of an age, but she had the eyes of someone who was as world weary as himself. He didn’t ask for her story, nor she for his, but he left his hair at his shoulders for awhile. It could be put back into place later so it wouldn’t fall into his eyes.

“To victory when a sword is needed, and peace when it isn’t.” She held up her mug and Duncan clicked his rim against hers. Her hands were used to labor, but not practiced with a weapon. So far he’d been looking for men and women around twenty years who were likely to stay standing when armed monsters from the worst nightmares came charging at them. Whoever the stranger was, she didn’t have the skills he would need. Duncan supposed there might have been time to train her, but even that was uncertain. Twelve years had already passed. If he was more of an optimist, he might let himself believe nothing was going to happen, and everyone was safe. Life taught him hard lessons too early for that.

“Is there someone waiting for you?” He needed a night out of the cold, to allow himself to be less than a Warden for a few hours. It was frivolous – selfish – but few of the Wardens he knew were noble or selfless. He was thirty, and wanted to be that young man who slipped away with a willing young mage underneath his Commander’s nose again for a few hours.

“Me?” She chuffed a hearty laugh, “not me. Mum was from the mountains and Da couldn’t ever convince her to tie more marriage knots. She was too free, that one, and I take after her. It’s best that way, and I’ll keep to my furs, traps, and own company. Most of the time.” She shrugged one shoulder, and the glitter in her brown eyes told him all he needed to know.

They finished their meal and drink in companionable silence, and when he rose to follow her to her room, she didn’t object. A few patrons who were braving the coldest winter in Ferelden sniggered as they went by, but his companion ignored them.

“Ishild.” She introduced herself as she closed the door behind them and sat on the edge of the bed to remove her boots.

“Duncan.” He gestured to the place beside her for permission, and she moved out of the middle of the mattress to make room for him. Sitting, he unbuckled his grieves so he could get to his own boots and slide them off. He’d been so focused on his task for so many years, there hadn’t been much time for company, and none for a family. Her company was a welcome reprieve.

“Want some help?” She was far more forthright than most women, and once she’d shrugged off the outer layer of fur clothing, she aided him in unfastening buckles. It was faster with two people, and they shared the opinion that clothing was a hindrance. Both of them were down to nearly nothing within a few minutes, and their bodies told stories of their own. Not all of his scars were carried inside, and although her flesh was a shade darker than his, he saw evidence of a hard life on her skin.

She was beautiful. Her legs were strong, breasts full, and hips were round. There was just enough to comfortably grab. Closing the small gap between them, the fingers of a thief plucked the strings of her chest band as the heat of her body mingled with his. Cloth slipped away from her dark, taut nipples and she sucked in her breath. A few more tenuous moments slid by as she pushed his smallclothes away from his erection, and he finished undressing her. Ishild’s nipples barely grazinging the hair of his chest, bodies hardly touched each other as she brushed her fingertips across his beard and hair.

Both of them knew what they wanted, and why she’d invited him. There was no need for preamble or idle conversation. Their mouths came together in a hot blast of lust, tongues seeking, and hands roaming hungrily. She hooked one leg around him, and rubbed her clit against his erection. Pressing her against a wall for stability, he felt her fingers wrap around his cock, guiding him. She was already as wet as she was willing, and he was inside of her with one, decisive stroke. “Don’t be too gentle, lover,” she requested as her fingers dug into his hips. “Leave me a few marks to remember you by on the ‘morrow when we’ve gone our own ways.” Her teeth against his shoulder, he felt her leave a trail of love bites in encouragement. It heightening his pleasure, and he groaned as he bore into her with quick, deep thrusts, and his fondles on her nipples turned into light pinches.

She climaxed very quickly, pulling tight around him and muffling her cries against his tangled hair. Even had he wanted to hold back, he couldn’t have, and wasn’t inside of her for much longer before he pressed her hard into the wall and shook with his own peak. Her thighs where slick with their union when he pulled out of her, and a soft, merry, husky laugh rippled through her body. Panting and warm with perspiration, she was content to lean against the wall. He braced an arm against it and moved a lock of her dark hair aside from her neck, biting gently where it joined her shoulder until she moaned in approval, and he sucked at her skin.

As his heart slowed, he knew his body was already fighting to recover, no differently than it would have from minor wounds. Wardens were hearty after the Joining. The Taint was tearing his body slowly down, but it also gave him some benefits. Grievous enough injury would kill anyone, but the small things healed more quickly. He needed less sleep, more food, and he wasn’t tired, yet. “The night is still young.”

For the first time, he surprised her, and guided her by the hand to the bed. Allowing herself the moment to recline and relax, he spread her legs and she felt the rough brush of his beard against her inner thigh. Beginning to kiss her, his teeth pinched until her wetness began to spread again. He left the requested marks in a pattern from knee to the top of her thigh. His tongue found her swollen sex. In comparison, he was excruciatingly gentle with her, there. His lips wrapped around her clit and he sucked with soft insistence, pausing periodically to lick, taste, and tease. By the time his tongue followed the full length of her slit and came back around again, he was hard.

Kissing her hips and stomach, he caught skin between his teeth and tugged, careful not to do too much or too hard. Mostly she encouraged him to do more, but he was cautious about crossing a threshold from pleasure to a pain which stopped being erotic. Catching one of her knees, he lifted it and entered her again, going more slowly the second time; riding in and out of her with deliberation so they could both savor it. Her hips bucked toward him as her eyes narrowed into pleasured slits, but he kept the unhurried pace until she began to tremble. He watched with satisfaction as her orgasm wound from where they were joined and spread throughout her body. Pausing while flush against her entrance, he waited a few seconds for her to orient. Staring into her eyes, he resumed, trading the sensual for rough and demanding. Their hips came together hard as he thrust into her, making her scream in ecstasy as her sensitive clit was tugged into her swollen center again and again. The names of mountain gods graced her lips by the time he came hard and deep inside of her, leaving them both gasping for breath.

Collapsing next to her, they enjoyed laying side by side for awhile, quiet while she savored the twitches in her clit which still tingled occasionally. “You’re full of surprises,” she said at length to the ceiling.

“I still am.” He cleared his throat and propped himself up on an elbow, turning her over on her stomach. Placing a kiss on her shoulder, he began to follow the path of her spine.

“Again?” Her voice was muffled with a pillow tucked beneath her chin, but there was no missing the incredulity.

“Once more, if you like.” Flits of his tongue lay down tiny circles which turned into love bites across her shoulder and she flexed into it.

“By all the gods, how…”

He hesitated on the answer, tugging at her skin with his teeth and tasting the salt of her sweat left behind from their previous exertions. There wasn’t any reason for him to hide, and he turned the nip into a kiss. “I’m a Grey Warden.”

Twisting to look at him, she stared at him curiously. “A Warden is it? Huh.” The matter decided itself quickly enough for her. “I never thought I’d have a Grey Warden shaking my bed, but gods bless me for it if that’s why you’re showing me such a night.”

That made him smirk, and he got a handful of her hair. Pulling it back so he could reach the corners of her mouth for a kiss, she allowed all of it gladly, embracing the pleasure of pain. There was no inch of her back, legs or neck which hadn’t felt the soft abrasion of his beard by the time he clasped her hips and brought her up to her knees. With her head still down, she mewled softly. “Take me, then, Grey Warden. I want to that kind of soreness tomorrow that every time I move I’ll remember how you felt inside of me.”

His light touch was a tease along her spine as he reached around to roll her nipples hard between his fingers. “If you insist.” His deep voice promised a thousand sins, and he entered her quick and raw. She cried out, pleased by the suddenness, and muffled herself into the pillow. The third time he mounted her, his body was demanding and dominant. Every thrust went rapid and deep until it drove them both into a blind, animal rut. Their voices blended the same way as their bodies and her wetness clenched at him; not wanting to let him go, but also not able to bear keeping him. She jerked upward to her hands and knees as she came with a primal abandonment, not caring if anyone heard her. Maker’s breath, the sounds alone would have unraveled him, and within seconds his seed was pushed hard and deep inside of her. After so much, she was dripping and spent.

They still didn’t say much as she eventually made room for him on the bed. He would sleep for awhile then rise, dress, eat, and be on his way. Neither of them minded, and for awhile he’d been able to think of nothing but the beautiful woman to whose bed he’d been invited.

It was the best way he could have ever hoped to celebrate a thirtieth year, and tomorrow would come as it would. The distraction would linger in his memory, just as a few of her love marks on his skin.


End file.
